


Silk and Swagger

by midnight_marimba



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Other, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_marimba/pseuds/midnight_marimba
Summary: On your first day serving among the soldiers of Heliodor, you meet a handsome prince at a ball.
Relationships: Prince Faris/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Silk and Swagger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonquesttbh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonquesttbh/gifts).



It’s your first day on the job, and you’re nervous as all get-out, because the day they picked for the newest soldiers to graduate and begin their formal duties is the same day as the delegation from Gallopolis is scheduled to arrive for the ball. Sir Hendrik judged that showing a greater strength of the guard force would be worth the gamble of allowing rank amateurs into a public-facing role tonight. “Give me cause for pride, soldiers. Not cause for regret,” he’d said.

You’re also thrilled, because mixed in with the visiting soldiers marching past you into the ballroom are other foreigners out of armor. They wear bright colors and soft fabric and they have tan skin and an exotic aura to them.

A young man in flowing silk catches your eye. He must be a dancer, you think, with his brilliant costume and his confident swagger. “Hello, gorgeous,” you murmur under your breath.

The senior guardsman next to you hisses at you, and you want to protest that no one could have known who you were talking to even if they heard you, but the man you were looking at halts. Turns to look at you. The entire delegation halts along with him. Your face catches fire underneath your helmet. He smiles at you.

“Hello, yourself,” he says.

“H-hello?” you say again, rather less sure of yourself.

“I do love a good uniform, but I’m not allowed to make eyes at my men. Perhaps you would care to accompany me into tonight’s festivities? You can show me the local dances,” he says.

“I, I don’t know if I can, I mean, I mustn’t leave my post,” you stammer.

“Nonsense. I’ll smooth everything over. I’m a close personal friend of your general and your princess, you know.”

“Y-you are?”

“Certainly.” He puts a hand on your elbow. “Come with me. You won’t regret it. Just ask any of my men. A night in my company is a night to remember.” He looks around expectantly.

“His Highness is...very memorable,” agrees one of your counterparts among the delegation, cementing the burgeoning panic building in your chest with the confirmation that you have attracted the attention of the Prince of Gallopolis himself.

“Very...noble,” adds another when Prince Faris looks at him.

“All our civilians regard him as a great hero,” a third soldier chimes in as Prince Faris’s gaze finds him.

“You see? Do say you’ll come with me,” the prince says, smiling up at you. “I’ll be absolutely devastated, otherwise.”

You rationalize that you don’t want to start a war by refusing, that you aren’t merely going weak with that beautiful smile, or the sheer charismatic presence of the man, or the incredibly flattering interest of a real live prince. “I, I’d be honored, Your Highness,” you say, ignoring your neighboring guardsman’s long, audible sigh through his nose.

“Wonderful! Let us continue, then!” He links his arm through yours, and you nearly trip over your own feet before you recover. Only your recent experience of endless drills in formation allows you to match your stride to his as the delegation resumes its movement.

He keeps you at his side while he greets the important personages of Heliodor. You face down nobility and royalty in a daze. Then you are face to face with Sir Hendrik. His eyes fall upon you and the corners of his mouth turn down, and you quake in your boots, but Prince Faris speaks up.

“Hendrik, I must thank you for allowing one of your soldiers to escort me tonight. I feel quite safe with such a fine, upstanding specimen of a guard at my side.”

Sir Hendrik’s glower finally slides off of you and over to the prince. He stares in silence for a moment while your heart races, and then he finally says, “You are welcome, Your Highness. Please enjoy the festivities.”

You turn away with the prince, and the breath rushes out of you in relief. Prince Faris pats your arm. “You see? I told you everything would be fine. Come, let us visit the buffet. I can’t wait to try your local delicacies.”

He invites you to point out your personal favorites. Shyly, you fill a plate for him with meat pie, soft bread, stewed greens, pickled herring. He works his way through your offerings. Somehow he makes even the act of eating look exotic. You watch, entranced, from the first bite until the last, when he sniffs at the herring curiously and lifts the entire fillet to his mouth.

“Oh, you are trying the herring!” enthuses a nearby nobleman. “My barony brings it in from the Emerald Coast.”

Prince Faris’s face acquires a peculiar expression, and the baron finishes speaking immediately before Faris makes a choking noise and then sprays the contents of his mouth directly onto the man. Your mouth falls open in astonishment, and so does the baron’s. There is a sudden hush around you.

“It has a rather strong flavor,” the prince declares after a moment. “Quite surprising, I must say.”

“This is intolerable!” exclaims the baron. “I must demand satisfaction!”

“Oh, no, I did not mean any insult over your dreadful fish,” says Faris.

You begin to worry for his safety, and you edge a little bit closer in case you have to throw yourself in front of him to protect him.

“I challenge you to a duel! There is no other way to account for this insult,” says the baron.

“Oh. Ah.” Faris looks around, and his gaze falls on you, and he smiles brightly. “Well, I have been firmly advised to avoid any crossing of blades between our two nations tonight, but I am sure my companion will gladly act as my champion in this matter. Won’t you?”

“I...I would be honored, Your Highness,” your mouth says before you can think better of it.

“Excellent. Very well! You shall have your duel, sir. Shall we begin? There’s room over there,” Faris says, gesturing to the dance floor.

The baron frowns at Faris, then at you. “Fine. Let us go.”

“Hendrik!” Faris shouts. “Hendrik, my friend, bring some swords over here! We have a duel!”

The entire room turns to stare at you, and the baron, still covered in fish, looks even more sour as he spins and stalks off toward the indicated area. You decide to assume that this is all a dream, and a peculiar calm comes over you as you follow in his wake. It’s not a terrible dream, really. A handsome prince is smiling at you as if you are the greatest hero he’s ever seen.

Sir Hendrik’s glower appears before you again, and Faris explains the duel, and Sir Hendrik makes a low growling noise, staring at both of you like you are made out of the mushy fish still adorning the baron, but finally he sighs and says, “The duel will end when one of you yields or at first blood, whichever comes first. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” you say with a salute.

“Fine,” says the baron.

“Start the music!” Faris shouts at the orchestra. The musicians obediently strike up a dramatic tune, which seems to you to be confirmation that this is a dream, because no duel you have ever heard of is set to music.

The baron turns out to be one of the noblemen whose temper is quicker than their sense, and he has clearly never applied himself to the same months and months of training and drills that you have just completed. You have him at swordpoint in a matter of moments, and when he tries to pull an ill-advised trick to get out of the situation instead of yielding, he manages to nick his own arm on your blade.

“That is first blood. The duel is over,” booms Sir Hendrik. The baron grimaces, nods, and stalks away.

Prince Faris laughs and flings an arm around your waist, giving you a squeeze. “My hero! I knew I chose well. I have a great eye for talent, you know.”

The contact feels real, and it comes to you that this isn’t a dream at all, this is reality, and you have won your first duel, and a handsome prince is calling you his hero. Your face catches fire again.

“Come on,” he says. “We are already on the dance floor, and we have music, and you promised to teach me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

You show him the steps to one of the simpler dances. He imitates you with more enthusiasm than accuracy, and you can’t quite tell if he keeps bumping into you by accident or on purpose. It must be on purpose. Your face warms again and you find yourself smiling. You gently bump into him, once, in a fit of daring, and he laughs.

You dance, and you dance, and it’s not nearly long enough before he begins to slow. He puts a hand on your arm and leans close to say, “My friend, I fear I am exhausted. I am going to have to turn in for the night.”

You wonder for an instant if this is leading to a proposition, and the idea fills you with the same mix of terror and thrill that has become familiar to you over the course of the evening, but you take a closer look, and he really does look tired.

“You must have had a long day of travel,” you say, sympathetic.

“Yes. Yes, that is it exactly. Otherwise no one would be able to keep up with my level of endurance.”

You blush again to hear that after where your thoughts were straying only a moment before, but you duck your head in a nod.

“Well, my friend, it has been a great pleasure,” the prince says, pushing through his exhaustion to give you a winning smile. “I do hope I will see you again soon.”

You barely manage to get out a complete sentence in the face of his flattery. “I’d like that.”

You walk with him to the edge of the room, entrust him back to the care of his own guardsmen, and you watch him go, taking your heart along with him.

**Author's Note:**

> edit: if you liked this, you'll love [Flushed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738125) by dragonquesttbh!


End file.
